


My Hatred Birthday Day

by livsanto



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Romance/Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livsanto/pseuds/livsanto
Summary: Hermione hated her birthday. And Murphy. And cakes. And singing. And Hogsmead. But above all things, she hated Draco Malfoy.





	My Hatred Birthday Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My first language is not English and this story of mine is from 2009. Oh Good.  
> Still I wanted to bring it here because I saw very few DHr fics.

Hermione hated her birthday. It was just stupid. Why would people celebrate being a year closer to death anyway? And she was closer than her peers, it was important to point out. It didn't make any sense.

And every single year was the same old thing. Not that she didn’t know her birthday would come every year, mind you, but the the  _celebration_  that came with it every year.

She would wake up and a line of presents would be standing at the bottom of her bed, which would've been great, except for the fact that most of those presents were anything but the things she wanted.

It would be so thoughtful if Ron just dropped his attempts to make her understand Quidditch.  _She grasped the concept_ , thank you very much, she just couldn't get  _why_  it was so damn important.  _It distracted people from their homework!_  It was madness!

The next thing on the schedule for the  _magical_  day was making happy faces every time someone asked her how she felt about being a year older.  _What was with that question?_  Why did everybody ask that for? Even if there was an satisfying answer, would people really be interested? Well, probably not, so why,  _God_ , why, couldn't they just live her the hell alone?

And then she would go to Hogsmead. Not that every single birthday of hers would be on a Hogsmead weekend, obviously, but Harry had his  _special ways_  to break school rules and she didn't believe he'd even understand why that was wrong, so she'd went along to try and prevent them from doing something even more stupid or dangerous. Ron and Harry seemed very keen on those ideas.

Hogsmead was a marvelous place, it really was. She liked the stores, the people, the butterbeer and all those things, but at that forsaken day, Madam Rosmerta would come out of the blue with this gigantic cake and make the whole pub sing along that awful "Happy Birthday" song. The song just repeated itself like a hundred times! For heavens sake, why couldn't they simply say "Happy Birthday to you!" and be done with it?

See? The day seemed programmed to embarrass Hermione and distract her from her homework, which was just mean.

And seemingly, there was nothing she could do about it. Both of her friends seemed determinate to make the day memorable for her, which they usually were, as a matter of fact, but probably not for the same reasons they intended, and she couldn’t stomach being the bearer of bad new to them.

So she was stuck on the 19th September nightmare. For the rest of her life. Rest of her life, rest of her life…

And now you could see why she told Draco Malfoy to just forget it and talk to her on the 20th. She couldn't bear the thought of adding  _him_  to the equation. He didn’t seem to be able to grasp the concept of making things easier for people, he always went there and made it worse, he couldn't even help it. It was who he was.

And she couldn't help it herself, but she was madly in love with him.

A tiny little voice inside her head, kept telling her that the fact that she was in love with someone like  _him_  should say something really awful about herself. But, to say the truth, she couldn't care less.

Oh, stop with those judging faces! There was nothing wrong with being in love with him, no matter what her friends said! It was not like he became a Death Eater after all! Not when the war exploded after their sixth year because he refused to let the others Death Eaters inside the school. He suffered a big deal at the time. Every single person in Azkaban was just  _dying_  to get out of there and break his pureblooded neck, including his father.

But there he stood, he helped the Order with every information he got in exchange for protection for Narcissa Malfoy, which Hermione though was somewhat noble of him. She was so used to the idea of him being a spoiled bastard, that she wouldn't have been surprised if he asked for a flying pony instead.

Anyway, the fact was that with his help, they defeated Lord Voldemort at last.

So he was kind of a hero, like... sort of. It was not like he was a sarcastic Death Eater son of a bitch. I mean, he was not a Death Eater. That should count for something.

The point was that she liked him, and miraculously enough, he liked her back. And it was just too bad if her friends couldn't stand him, they would just have to deal with it, wouldn't they? Besides, it was not like she was an irresponsible young woman, she could handle her own life, thank you very much.

Yes, Ronald,  _without_ your interventions! And for the love of God,  _stop with that 'allying with the enemy'_ nonsense! It wasn't going to work!

And now that you are with Hermione in her thinking process, it is easy to understand why she told him to forget about her birthday. She liked him, there was no reason to start hating him all over again just because she was sure he'd be a prat about that particular day.

The whole day was already bad enough without his help anyway, so Hermione was positive that it was all for the best.

That was why she had on a smug grin when she went over her presents and found none from him. He was doing what she asked! Draco Malfoy took an order from her! That was already a good gift, the best she got, mind you.

Well, yes, she supposed she  _was_  kind of a control freak and it pleased her to no end when people just did what she ordered them to do. But that was merely playing safe: one couldn't possibly assume the best present she received would've been that dreadful book entitled "Quid-dit-ch for dumb people of all ages" from Ron.

Oh, the only happiness she would extract from that book was shoving it right into his a… Mouth. Yes, mouth.

The other presents weren't that bad: she got an agenda from Harry which was supposed to set an alarm every time she had an obligation, like doing her homework. Funny, she though she remembered giving him something similar a couple of years ago.

Well, probably not.

She also got quills and feathers from her parents, which was thoughtful, seeing it was just what she needed. And then, there were the usual homemade candies from Mrs. Weasley.

Those were lovely presents, she thought, and she supposed she could always use Ron's book to set up the fireplace, after all.

And none of them from  _him,_ of course. Which was just what she wanted. She was just... curious. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what kind of present he'd have given her. She supposed it would be something scandalous in a Malfoy-ish way, like a fountain or a statue or something. She'd hate to have to call to the Vatican and ask if there were any fountains missing, it would be definitely embarrassing, not to mention a sin, possibly.

That was why she didn't mind. She didn't mind at all.

 

* * *

 

"So, a year older, hum? How does it feel, Hermione?", Parvati asked, as soon as the she reached the Common Room.

Hermione realized that in the course of seven years, she became somewhat fond of Parvati, even though the girl wasn't a strong candidate to discover the cure for cancer and such. Well, it was never too late to start disliking her.

"Hermione!", Harry's voice called from the other end of the Room, distracting Parvati long enough so she could evade the question and escape.

 _Oh, Harry, you really_ are _World's savior!_

"So, how does it feel being a year older?", he emended.

_Et tu, Brutus._

"The same as I did yesterday, Harry," she spat, "this question is absolutely nonsen-"

"Hermione! I hope you liked the book I gave you. So, how are you feeling?", Ron said from somewhere on the top of the stairs.

_Why, God, WHY?!_

 

* * *

 

"Come on, Herm, tell us the truth, did we say something that upsetted you?", Harry asked from the millionth time during the breakfast. Ron was so absorbed in his food that he didn't seem interested on the subject any longer.

Good, Hermione liked Ron. She decided she liked the fact he was the most insensible person in the world.

"You didn't! It's just that I… Forget it, Harry, just drop it."

"But-", he began. That was the big problem with that whole Golden Boy stuff, he never knew when to stop.

But he did stop, as soon as he noticed that he'd lost Hermione's attention to… a door.

"You're staring at the door.", he stated.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am n… Fine. I'm."

It wasn't like Hermione thought that Draco had ever been right about her friends, but maybe, just  _maybe_ , he wasn't precisely  _wrong_  about some aspects of Harry Potter. The boy  _was_ unbelievably annoying. Like everything was about him. Gosh!

"Uhm… So, what did Malfoy give you?"

 _I just want to beat him senseless and then he'd drop that goofy smil_ …

Harry was staring at her like he was waiting for an answer.  _What? For the love of God, WHAT?_

"You were saying?", she asked, trying to calm herself down.

"I asked what Malfoy gave you for your birthday. Honestly, Hermione, are you feeling well?"

"Never better.", she lied shamelessly, "He… He gave me nothing."

She could _feel_  those judging green eyes turning to her even though she was still staring at the door, like he pitied her or something. Well, she was not the virgin there, nothing to feel sorry about, really.

"I told him not to.", she emended.

"Well, you always tell us not to but we give it anyway"

_Unfortunately._

"I don't see how it's a bad thing that he respects my wishes.", she said in a neutral ton.

"Okay.", he answered dropping his gaze from her face.

_It was about damn time!_

"So, did he asked you to be his girlfriend yet?", The Boy Who Lived To Be A Pain In The Ass asked while biting his toast.

_Oh my F- God!_

"Our relationship is beyond those silly labels.", she said, sounding lame even to her own ears.

"Uhm.", Harry didn't sound convinced, well, she supposed she couldn't blame him this time, "And why are you staring at the door?"

"I'M NOT! I'M JUST BLOODY LOOKING! THE DOOR, THE AMAIZING DOOR! I DIDN'T ADMIRE IT ENOUGH TROUGH ALL THESE THE YEARS, SO I'M DOING IT NOW! JUST DROP IT, POTTER!"

And then she realized: she was standing up beside the Gryffindor table and every single look of the Great Hall was fixed on her livid face. Great, that was just marvelous.

"I'm sorry I angered you, Hermione. I was just making conversation.", Harry, who clearly missed a class or two about that making conversation thing, explained. He was  _torturing_  her, that's what he was doing.

"Well, stop doing that! You're annoying me.", she said way lower, sitting back at the bench, with her cheeks burning.

Hermione was still trying to resist the temptation that was throwing herself under the table and wait for everyone to leave (or for death's sweet embrace, whichever came first), when Harry poked her shoulder and pointed at the door.

"I believe that it was him that you were waiting for."

Malfoy.

The blonde hair sparkling on the top of his head with not a single hair out of place, the thin body covered with the Slytherin uniform, the arrogant posture irradiating from every pour of his being.

Yeap, that was Draco Malfoy all right.

Hermione couldn't help but smile wildly at him and wait for him to acknowledge her, like he always did. He turned his head at her direction, the silver eyes fixed on her and he nodded his head, not a smile upon his face, just a tiny, almost unnoticeable nod.

That sign represented that he knew she was there, that he knew she was waiting for him, that he knew she liked him, and that he liked her back.

It was not like they were all about public display of affections, anyway, so the short nod was really all that took for Hermione.

"…think that he would be nicer to her, I mean, it's her birthday! Doesn't he know that?", Dean Thomas was saying to Seamus.

Oh, he knew it. He was just respecting her wishes and acting indifferent upon that day. But he knew that it was her birthday.

Sure he knew… Right? Yeah, right.

 

* * *

 

Harry was still acting with some what cautious around her by the time they decided – surprise, surprise! – to spend the rest of their day in Hogsmead. Only this time, it was Hermione who suggested that they'd go there, because that was the path of least resistance and the boys would've ended up dragging her there anyway. Even so, they still acted like it was the most brilliant idea after electricity.

Well, Ron didn't know exactly what electricity was, but he looked exited nonetheless.

And to think that it was Hermione herself that suggested they went to Hogsmead... that gave her the disturbing idea that she, somehow, dug her on grave on that birthday nightmare thing. Like she was a masochist or something. But then again, the other option would be staying in the castle and answer all day long to that  _bloody_ "How do you feel _?"_ question.

Mind you, if she  _wanted_  to answer that, she'd just go to a shrink.

She guessed that even though Madam Rosmerta made everybody sing to her, it was still better than staying in the castle.

Actually, Hermione had a card on her sleeve that made her feel particularly great about that year's celebration: she was over age now, so no reason she'd have to  _remember_  the singing part.

That thought cheered her up so much that she caught herself being civil towards Harry again. Which, of course, was no good. He'd think that he was forgiven and would automatically assume that it was okay to interrogate people like they were at the Spanish Inquisition or something. So she went back to being bitchy whenever he spoke to her. She was teaching him a valuable lesson, he'd thank her someday.

Hermione supposed the walk trough the village would have being way smoother if it  _wasn't_  a Hogsmead weekend for the whole school. Yes, she had obviously forgotten that detail.

That was just rich. She got out of that castle to escape from people that  _knew_  it was her birthday and suddenly, she was somewhere else surrounded by the same people she wanted to avoid.

Murphy was out to get her. That much was for sure.

The bastard. He knew no love, that Murphy man. He died alone in a Christmas night. A  _cold_  Christmas night. Bwahaha!

She was still cursing Murphy when Ron gave them the brilliant idea of going to the Three Broomsticks, claiming it was too hot and too crowdy on the streets. Harry accepted enthusiastically while Hermione shrugged and fallowed her friends. It never seized to amaze her how they seemed so eager to do what they did every single year.

Maybe it would be different this year, she thought. Maybe there'd be a gigantic cake and a man would come out of it and start dancing. Maybe the song he'd dance to would be some from Bon Jovi. Maybe it was  _Bon Jovi himself_  that would come out of Hermione's cake.

A girl could dream.

Hermione saw Harry exchanging 'discreet' glances with Madam Rosmerta and indicating Hermione with his head. The poor lady looked at him with a puzzled expression across her beautiful face. Harry tried again, because that's what he did, and Rosmerta mouthed a 'what?' in his direction.

"It's my birthday. That's what he's trying to say.", Hermione told her, then she dragged Ron and Harry to the available seats next to the bar. Harry looked at her like she'd told him that Christmas was canceled that year, "Honestly, Harry, the woman was  _struggling_  to understand you. It was painful to watch."

"I suppose…" Harry started.

"What can I get you guys?", Madam Rosmerta interrupted with a kind smile upon her face.

"We'll have three Butterbeers, please.", Ron told her.

"Unless you or Harry want to drink two Buttlebeers at the same time, I think that it'd be just two for you guys.", Hermione told him.

"You don't want a Butterbeer?", Ron made it sound like it was a capital sin.

"No, not this time.", she answered with a tiny smile.

"So is there anything I can get you, honey?", Madam Rosmerta asked.

"I'd like to have a firewhiskey, please." Hermione said with a neutral expression.

Harry and Ron gave her 'The Look'.

Hermione watched as their mouths opened in a small 'o'. She decided that, as they were already shocked and probably thinking she was the Pollyjuiced Voldemort in a dress (which was disturbing for itself), it would do no harm shocking them a little bit further.

"Actually", Hermione told Rosmerta as she was living, landing a feather-like hand on the woman's arm, "Make it two."

 

* * *

 

"So… You're drunk.", Ron told her with a smirk that didn't quite suit him. Smirking was someone else's thing. Hermione was having a hard time remembering who's was it.

"Am not!", she spat with all the dignity that was left in her soul. She was royaly wasted, there was not much dignity left.

Ron's smirk grew a little wider moments before he covered his mouth with his mug again.

"Sure you're not.", Hermione heard the muffed sound of his voice against the mug.

Ron's hair was sparkling, Hermione noticed. Sparkling like the sun! Red was a nice hair color. She didn't understand why people made a fuss about his hair. It was a _great_  hair color. It reminded her of firewhiskey. She liked firewhiskey, so, therefore, she liked Ron's hair. Infallible logic.

Hermione offered him a smile that expressed how much she liked his hair, he didn't seem to fallow her thoughts though, looking at her with a puzzled expression. She shrugged and took another shot of firewhiskey.

"I think that you had enough.", she heard Harry I-Like-To-Spoil-People's-Fun Potter say.

"Absurd", she told him, "How come you think I had enough after six shots if you didn't think I could take it at all? I don't think you are the most indicated person to judge this."

Harry blinked.

"She seems eloquent.", Ron offered.

"She's Hermione. She's always eloquent."

Smirk.

Why people had to keep on smirking at her? She didn't like it! She felt… she felt like she was angry with the smirk. Which was absurd, of course, but she couldn't shake the feeling that smirking was someone's strong attribute, and that she was mad at that person.

And than it hit her. Actually, the chronological order of events was: the doorbell rang, someone came in and  _than_  it hit her. And it did, because the person that came into the Three Broomstick was smirking. And it  _suited_ him _._

Smirking suited Draco Malfoy and his arrogant posture. It was  _his_  thing. It was  _him_  she was mad at.

But… Why? He was truly in his best behavior. He kept away from her on her birthday, just as she told him to. He didn't give her any presents, just like she wanted to. He barely acknowledged her, which was normal to them. So why was she mad at him?

He gave the place an over look before he found a seat for himself and Zabini, he spotted her and gave her a curt, almost unnoticeable, nod, then he turned his head and started talking to Zabini.

Hermione felt… empty. She was kind of glad that he was doing what she asked him to, but she have always asked the same thing to Harry and Ron and they happily ignored her and made her day a living hell. A _cozy_ living hell. Harry and Ron  _cared_. They cared so much that they'd disobey her and did what they felt like doing to express how much they liked her.

She felt… Oh dear God, she felt needy. She was a needy-drunk; someone  _please_  had to make it stop. It was too humiliating.

Hermione felt dizzy.

"Now, I'd like to ask everybody's help to sing a special song for a very special client!", Rosmerta said pointing to where Hermione was seated.

Oh-no, now was the time, the singing time. Hermione wanted to tell her that she didn't feel special so there really was no point at singing. She actually felt needy and very, very drunk. She wanted do die and spare herself the humiliation.

"Everybody!"

The cake was coming. A big cake. Not big enough to fit Jon Bon Jovi though. So there was no reason to stay. At all.

" _Haaaaappy birthday to you!"_

The whole bar was starting to sing. Heads were spinning everywhere to look at the birthday girl's face. The birthday girl felt like running, you people could all stop staring now, thanks.

" _Haaaaappy birthday to you!"_

Who the heck bonded her legs to the chair? Wasn't that overly voyeuristic? Was that even  _aloud_?

Oh, yeah, the alcohol.

 _Et tu, Brutus,_ the return.

" _Haaaaaaapy biiiiirthday"_

Draco was looking. He was looking with that smirk across his face. He absolutely could  _not_  know she was feeling needy. She had to leave.

" _Dear Hermioneeeeee!"_

The cake was placed before her. All she could say was that it was white, creamy and Bon Jovi was not in it. Actually, she could also say that it  _smelt_  creamy, which was absurd, of course, but that smell of sugar was getting into her brain in a way that…

" _Happy birthday…"_

"Holly  _shit!_ " that was Ron, the gentlest person alive.

She vomited on the cake.

Damn you, Murphy.  _Damn you!_

 

* * *

 

"There, there." Ron told her while tapping her back. They were back at the Great Hall by now and dinner was being served. Hermione had to focus all her might in not vomiting all over the table. Again.

She asked Ron to lead her back to the Gryffindor Tower, but he insisted that he wouldn't, otherwise, he'd lose dinner and since there was nothing more  _bloody_ important than dinner on the face of Earth, she had to stay.

Harry would never force her to be around food on her delicate state, but he was off on some sort of mission called 'damage control' or something, so she was left with her insensitive red haired friend.

She decided she didn't like his hair anymore.

Ron wasn't that much of a help since they got back to the castle, she couldn't feel the  _heat_  emanating from his person. Uhm…To be fair, she supposed she pucked a little bit on him as well. Perhaps she couldn't blame the boy, after all.

Not that she was paying him that much of attention, anyway, Hermione felt like drowning herself in self pity. She was doing a good job so far.

".. public humiliation.", she was saying, "I'll have to change my name into something stupid like Pansy Parkinson or whatever."

"There, there" Ron told her again.

"You're so good at this, Weasel King. I'm considering oppenly whipping just to have your warm pawls tapping my back.", that was Draco Malfoy. Oh my God, who invented that  _shit_  about not being able to aparatate in Hogwarts, anyway?

If it wasn't for the headache, the hole in her soul and the humiliation eating her alive, she'd have been shocked at him for coming to talk to her in the middle of dinner.

It was like… _Pubic_   _display of affection_ , or something _._ And Draco Malfoy simply didn't  _do_  displays of affection.

But since she was still drowning in self pity, she merely shrugged.

Ron, on the other hand, looked absolutely terrified.

"Actually, Weasel, no.", he said matter-of-factly. Ron signed relived, "And you take your hands off her as well. I'm confiscating this lady right now.", then Draco took Hermione by the elbow and lifted her up.

Hermione didn't feel like humiliating herself even further was a good idea. She tried to break free from him.

"Granger, come, I'll steady you."

"I'm not Granger anymore" she informed him "I'm Pansy Parkinson, I changed my name to spare my parents the displeasure of having me as a daughter."

"Oh, are you Pansy Parkinson now? Pity, I was looking for Hermione Granger.", he said with a plain expression, then, he looked at the real Pansy Parkinson's direction, "Maybe that girl over there is the new Hermione Granger then, I'll check."

"You'll certainly not!", she spat.

Draco smirked.

"Just help me, okay? I'm not sure I can walk straight."

"You gryffindorks…", he begun.

" _Just help me out and let's get it over with!"_

 

* * *

Hermione was looking trough the balcony on the top of the Astronomy Tower. She liked the view from that particular place. Everyone seemed small compared to her.

_Bound to my will, you tiny little mortals! Bwahaha!_

Ohh, dizziness.

"It's amazing how I managed to climb all those stair up to here.", she said looking smug, turning away from de balcony.

"You didn't, and since you didn't want to be carried, I levitated you.", Draco informed her with a neutral ton.

"Oh", it was all she could articulate.

Hermione supposed it made a lot more sense.

Draco was looking at her with an odd expression, she wished that he didn't. She was in no condition to interprete anyone's odd expression right now. She also wished Earth would stop spinning just for a couple of hours. What harm could that do?

"So… You're drunk", it wasn't much of a question.

"Am n…", she begun, thinking about saving what was left of her dignity, but since he already saw her vomiting on her birthday cake in the middle of the Three Broomstick, she thought that the dignity ship had sailed for good, "Err, yes, I'm."

"Why?", he asked taking a step closer, looking at her like he was trying to see beyond her brain.

There's nothing to be seeing, she thought of telling him, just fog, really.

"Because… I had alcohol?", she tried. Draco rolled his eyes. So, what  _did_  he want to know? Why couldn't he just ask exactly what he wanted? Hell, she couldn't think straight! Damn him!

"Why did you have alcohol, Hermione? It doesn't sound like you.", He asked like he was talking to a two year old. She'd have been affronted if she was sober, but right now, she was kind of grateful for him and his small words.

The thing was that the situation had blown tremendously out of proportions. She just didn't like her birthday nor the birthday celebrations, so she thought she could have a drink to make everything pass by a little bit faster, then… Well, then there was blur, Ron's hair, Bon Jovi and a birthday cake completely ruined.

She was so scared of people making her feel stupid or embarrassed on that particular day by singing to her or asking idiotic questions, that she ended up making a fool out of herself.

She wouldn't admit that even under a gun point, though, it was lame beyond any excuse, she had to preserve what was left of her dignity, she was pretty sure that deep,  _really deep_  down there was some left.

"I… The devil made me do it.", she told him instead, "Dark… Satanic powers forced my hands".

Draco frowned.

"Listen, if by 'the devil' you mean your Weasel friend, a vendetta could be arranged.", he informed her folding his arms against his chest, "Actually, I'm solving this right  _now._ "

"No, Draco, don't!", she said grabbing his hand while he was turning at the door's direction, "I did because I hate my birthday, there, I said it!", she begun, "So... I had firewhiskey and then… well, you were there."

Dignity was overrated, anyway.

"Weas-Ron didn't make me do it. I did it because I'm… I don't know.", she ended up saying, even though she did know. Now she'd just have to move to Fiji and start a brand new life, there was nothing left on the old one.

Draco blinked.

"I don't trust that weasel boy.", he told her, "Where was Potter, anyway?  _He_  is too goody-goody to try and make you have firewhiskey."

"He was there, trying to deprive me from having firewhiskey. I told him to shove off", she explained.

Draco offered her a sympathetic smile. He, of all people, knew how it felt like telling Harry to shove off.

"Granger, this is so stupid.", He was saying with his usual plain expression, "You tried to forget about that stupid birthday thing and just went there and a made a complete fool out of yourself. Why do you have so much difficulty in accepting that people may actually like you enough to endure the real  _pain in the ass_  that you're about this date? Even if all you do is act mean and vomit on birthday cakes."

Hermione gasped. Was Draco Malfoy giving her a speech about morals?

"Are you giving me a speech about morals?"

"What? Oh, yeah, but that was only to make you feel uncomfortable, I'm done with this crap now.", He told her waving a hand dismissively, "What I wanted to tell you is that I tried to respect your wishes and stay always, but then I thought that you were being egoistic and not respecting  _my_  wishes. So I decided to ignore your request, drag you up her and wish you happy birthday rather you like it or not."

He was looking at her like he was defying her to be mad at him.

And she should have been, he was being a total egoistic jerk and not giving a damn about her feelings, but then again, since when did people know what they truly wanted? Her whole day was a total waste of energy trying not to focus on the fact that he didn't seem to care about her birthday and now, there he was, disobeying her and  _caring_.

Not that she'd ever tell him, but she was under the impression that he knew what she deeply wanted way more than _she_  did.

She smiled at him. And he smiled back.

"Good, the first part of my plain is complete.", he told her with a grin.

"Your plan?", she asked with a frown.

"Yes. Now I'm planning on inform you I decided that you're my girlfriend and that we should have sex."

"You can't say those things to me while I'm drunk! You… you… you're taking  _advantage_  of my inebriated state!", she told him pointing a finger.

Draco's grin grew even wider instants before he rapped an arm around her waist and brought her body close to his. Hermione was having a hard time remembering the breathing tecnic.

"That's what happens when you date slytherins."

Hermione felt a warm smile setting place upon her face, even though her intention was to glare at him. That was  _not_  a proper behavior and he should not be encouraged!

Well, she was drunk on her birthday day, who was she to point fingers?

"I think I can deal with that."

And then she kissed him.

 


End file.
